


To Rewrite History

by wave_of_sorrow



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (2009)
Genre: Kissing, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-13
Updated: 2010-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-10 13:05:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wave_of_sorrow/pseuds/wave_of_sorrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his life Watson had experienced many kinds of kisses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Rewrite History

In his life Watson had experienced many kinds of kisses; those given and those taken, sweet and salty, gentle and rough, bruising and healing, women and men, smiling and crying, memorable and regrettable, affectionate and angry, and all those in between.

 

There was something to be said about the forbidden kisses, shared in a dark alley, the rain draped over them like a cool silver blanket, tongues sliding and tangling, teeth clicking, hips rolling, rubbing, bucking, heat erupting between two bodies as their hearts raced over the finish line.

 

There was something to be said about a wife’s kisses, given in the warmth of a house, tasting of honey and smelling of lavender, mouth upturned in a happy smile, delicate hands ghosting over a stubbly jaw, flesh soft and yielding beneath him, all creamy skin and supple curves under his hands.

 

There was something in particular to be said about the first kisses, exciting and new, marking yet unclaimed territory, drawing maps of new lands, new worlds, new skies, getting to know the unknown, becoming familiar with the unfamiliar, and there was something to be said about the last kisses. Yes, about those too. Bittersweet, salty as the sea, fragile, final.

 

But most of all there was something to be said about Holmes’ kisses, given in the cosy warmth of a home, smelling of tobacco and sulphuric acid, a warm nose rubbing against Watson’s, dark eyes alight with supernovas, entire galaxies trapped in them, breaths shared, pushed back and forth between their mouths, lips close, so close, almost touching, but never quite. In those moments the past was irrelevant, none of what had been mattered, for a few moments history was rewritten.


End file.
